


When Rome's in ruins, we are the lions

by ElephantLoveMedley



Series: Nothing matters but you [7]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Healing, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:00:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25292821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElephantLoveMedley/pseuds/ElephantLoveMedley
Summary: "I don't know, Jean. Are you going to tell me?"He was glad for Renee, she was letting him indulge. "They were brothers, Renee. One of them died, the other became king." Jean wasn't sure who he was talking about anymore. He shook his head, rearranging his thoughts.(Or: Jean's and Kevin's lives on their new teams. A bit of changes, a bit of fighting and a bit of healing.)
Relationships: Kevin Day/Jean Moreau
Series: Nothing matters but you [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1657633
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	When Rome's in ruins, we are the lions

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!  
> So, not gonna lie: originally this was going to be titled "Cry to me" because of the song of Solomon Burke. I wanted to keep the theme of the songs going and this seemed fitting with the other ones.  
> BUT while editing I decided to focus more on the sense of victory than the one of loneliness, so you all get Fall Out Boy "Young Volcanoes", if you still haven't listened to this song go do it now because it's the most Foxes song I've ever heard, I know the beat is a bit to cheery to fit the Foxes aesthetic, but the words are on point. Also, I just really wanted to title the next part (that's going to be from Kevin's POV) as another line: "Tonight, foxes hunt the hounds". You can see how it fits.   
> Okay, this got out of hand. Just wanted to say that I hope you like this part! 💛  
> Oh, and the French parts are translated in the end notes!

Jean was sitting on the little stool in front of his kitchen island. Renee was talking on the phone, while he pushed his cereals around the bowl. He wasn't really hungry that morning.   
The news were playing in the background and he was torn between listening to it or to Renee. He was distracted.   
"Jean, you still there?"  
Her voice was as sweet as honey, too sweet compared to his harsh tone.   
"Yeah, just distracted."  
She hummed, but stayed silent.   
He let the phone call halt to a lull for a bit, then he cleared his throat. "You know what Caesar said when he crossed the Rubicon?" His cereals were getting soggy, but he didn't care.   
Renee just hummed, a questioning sound.  
Jean smiled, she probably didn't know. She probably didn't know because she never talked to Kevin, not in the way Jean did. He felt a surge of pride at the feeling of being the only person to know the real Kevin, the nerdy and passionate one. He knew every part of Kevin, every reflection of his personality.   
"Alea iacta est." He threw the cereals in the sink, letting them swirl down the drain. "It means 'The die is cast', no going back now."  
Renee spoke up. "Why are you telling me this?"  
Jean ignored her, he wasn't ready to get to the point just yet. "There was no going back for Caesar, he had crossed the river. You know, the Rubicon was only a symbol, it traced the border. The border was sacred in Rome, it marked the end of the city and you couldn't step into the city if you were armed." Jean sighed, he knew he was rambling. "They called it the pomerium and the first person who overstepped it with ill intentions died because of it. Do you know who that person was?"  
"I don't know, Jean. Are you going to tell me?"  
He was glad for Renee, she was letting him indulge. "They were brothers, Renee. One of them died, the other became king." Jean wasn't sure who he was talking about anymore. He shook his head, rearranging his thoughts. "They were Romulus and Remus. Romulus became king, Remus died because he didn't respect the sacred rules. He's now remembered only because he shares a legend with his brother."  
"What are you trying to tell me, Jean?"  
Jean sat down again, covering his face in his hand. "Kevin is wearing a new jersey. It has a 1 on it."

Kevin's new team wore black and blue, a crowned dragon spitting fire on the side of the jersey. The dragon was blue, stylized like the fire, the crown resembled the one over Kevin's tattoo.   
"It looks like a serpent."  
"But it's a dragon." Kevin huffed.   
"I could have drawn it better." Jean was bitter. He knew he was acting poorly, but Kevin's excitement for his new team wasn't contagious. It was frustrating. "Show me your away jersey again."  
Kevin held up a mainly white t-shirt in front of the camera, the only accents of black and blue were the dragon and the little details at the hems. Kevin looked so proud.   
"This one is better. I don't like you wearing all black."  
"It's not all black."  
Jean scoffed. "Well, it's not like a fucking blue dragon on the side is really noticeable over a black background."  
"You're just jealous because your lion is boring."  
Jean could recognize an attempt at lightening the mood when he saw one, most of the time he just decided to ignore it. "I'm not." He crossed his arms. "You know I'm not, I don't care about your stupid mascot. I care about you, Kevin. Why did you have to go and change it? Why did you-" He stopped.  
Kevin was still staring at him, the white 1 over his dark jersey glaring at Jean from the other side of the screen. He put his hands over it and smoothed the fabric. "You changed it."  
Jean nodded. Tracing the edges of his purple 29, a roaring lion reminding him of his new home.  
"We both covered our tattoos." Kevin traced his chess piece.  
Jean saw his hand twitching right above his ribs. Jean knew what the orange cotton was hiding.   
"We're both growing, finally we can. So, why is this so different?"  
"Because you want to be him! That's why, Kev. I just-" He took a deep breath. "I just-" He didn't have the words. "Je deteste-" He groaned and shut his laptop.   
Jean didn't cry when he was sad, not normally. Kevin was the one who did. But Jean wasn't sad right now, he was frustrated. So he let the tears spill. 

"You closed your laptop on him?"  
"I did, Gabby." He repeated, tears still staining his cheeks. He hated himself. He had never been this scared.   
"And you're afraid he hates you now."  
"He would have every reason to." He cast his eyes upwards, forcing the new tears back.  
"And this was one hour ago?"  
He had fucked up. Kevin would leave him. He would leave and they would never speak again and Jean would live all his life with the knowledge that the last words he said to him were comparing him to Riko.   
"I don't really think it, Gabby. It just surprised me. I was upset."  
Gabby sighed. "Just call him, Jean. He's probably freaking out more than you, don't let him get anxious."  
"What if he doesn't want to talk with me anymore?"  
"He wants."  
Jean made a strangled sound. "But what if he doesn’t?"  
"Jean." It felt so much like a warning. "Call him and see."  
“I can't right now. I have to go to practice.”  
Gabby sighed. “You can be a stubborn idiot at times, Jean. Just tell me how it goes.”  
Jean nodded. He hoped it would go well.

Practice was awful. Jean managed to get through it only because he was used to more than emotional distress. The worst part had been at the beginning, when the Lionhearts’ coach made every player introduce themselves. Jean hated introductions, he hated giving anything away.   
He thought about his Alexander the Great book sitting in the middle of the living room, out in the open for everyone to notice. He shuddered.   
He thought about the Trojan horse. He could build himself a hiding, just like the Greek soldiers. He could fill it with all his secrets and leave it in front of the city. Nobody would know what it was really holding. Nobody would think about looking inside.  
Jean wasn't really proud of how he was feeling inside.   
His thoughts kept drifting to Kevin, guilt was gnawing at his stomach. He could imagine his ribs cracking under the pressure, like the sides of a boat creaking in the tempest.   
He had promised Kevin to share his burden and, here he was, making his life difficult. He was making Kevin doubt himself, while he was the selfish one.   
He felt sick. The walls of the court, so familiar, felt suddenly oppressive, heavy. He took his helmet off.  
“Stop!”  
The buzzer went off overhead. Jean turned his neck to look at the scoreboard. He hoped they had won, Riko wouldn't let him live after another loss.   
The scoreboard was dark. There were no lights to indicate a winner and no lights to indicate a loser.   
Jean clutched his sides, letting his armour dig holes in his skin. Maybe, if he pierced it, the pressure would subside.   
He saw a shadow approaching him, the court was silent. He didn't bother turning around, he knew Riko would go for his head anyway. He just held on to his hair, his forearms covering his ears.   
A hand came up to his shoulder. “Kid. You alright?”  
Jean let himself fall to the ground. 

His knees were bruised and his head was aching, but the pressure on his chest wasn't as heavy as before.   
“Moreau.”  
He noticed he wasn't wearing his armour anymore, his jersey covering his chest like a blanket. His hands shot up to cover his scars.   
“Moreau.”  
He turned his head. His new coach was sitting on the other side of the room. He reminded Jean more of Wymack than of Rehmann, and he wasn't sure he liked that.  
“Why did you take your helmet off? What happened? Are you alright?”  
Jean shook his head. “I need a phone.” He stood up.   
“Where do you think you're going?” His coach made a move, like he was trying to stop him, but dropped his hands immediately. “The nurse says that you need to rest for a bit.”  
“I need my phone.”  
“I'll go get it for you. You stay here.”  
Jean was panicking. “Non!” He didn't want strangers to touch his things. He thought about his book, laying in the middle of the living room for everyone to notice.   
He pushed his coach aside, still clutching his jersey to his chest. He knew it was useless, his back was the worst part.   
He walked all the way to the changing rooms, all the way to his locker. He grabbed his phone, his bag and his wallet and his gear. He locked everything in a bathroom stall, folding his legs to be able to fit. He sat on the closed toilet lid and unlocked his phone. An unanswered call from Kevin was waiting for him.   
He held on to his jersey. “Non, non, non, non.”  
He dialed the number and counted the seconds between every ring.   
At the third ring Kevin answered. “Jean.” There was so much grief in Kevin's voice, Jean had to cover his mouth with the back of his hand, afraid of what sounds would come out. “Je ne suis pa comme lui. Tu dois me croire.”  
Jean was crying. “Non, non, non. Kev. Je suis désolé. Je-”  
“Jean.” Kevin sounded alarmed. “Jean. Que-”  
Jean took a deep breath, letting his purple jersey fall to the floor. “Je suis désolé, je suis désolé. Tu es bon, Kevin.”  
“Jean, Jean.” His voice was steady, but soft. “Hey, we're both safe. You can speak up, don't be afraid.”  
“Je ne peux pas.”  
“Jean, deep breaths.” Kevin started breathing with him, Jean struggling to catch up.   
One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.   
Jean relaxed his hand, he wiped his eyes. “Okay.”  
“Okay?” Kevin sounded relieved.   
“I'm sorry.”  
“You don't need to be.”  
“I do.” He took another deep breath, feeling his lungs expand, testing how much they could stretch. The breath that came out was shaky. “I should have never told you that. I don't really think so, you're nothing like him.”  
Kevin took a deep breath too. “That's not important.”  
“It is. You're good, you're kind. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Can you forgive me?”  
“You were already forgiven.”  
“Just tell me. Please.”  
Kevin stayed silent for a while. Jean knew he was thinking.   
“Please. I need to hear it.”  
Kevin caved. “I forgive you, Jean. You're forgiven.”  
“I miss you. I'm sorry.”  
“I love you.”  
“Kev-” He remained quiet for a bit. He couldn't tell Kevin what he was really thinking. He couldn't tell him that he had fucked practice up and that he thought he couldn't do this alone. He couldn't burden him even more, not after what he had already told him. He took a deep breath in, he let a shaky breath out. “For what matters, I think you deserve it. The one.” He passed a hand over his eyes. “It's yours.”  
Kevin was quiet.   
“I'm serious. It's yours.” Jean repeated. “And I'll always stand beside you. I just got scared.”  
“Is that true?”  
So few people knew this side of Kevin, the unsure and shaky one. Jean felt privileged and like he was abusing his power at the same time. It was his fault if Kevin had doubts now. “It's true. No one else could wear it.”  
“You could.”   
Jean let out a laugh. “You know I couldn't.” He tried to lighten the mood. “I'm just in it for the money.” He waited a bit. “And the people.”  
Kevin took the bait. “Oh, yes? Do you have your eyes on someone?” He sounded playful.   
“Oh, you know, one player or two.”  
“I hope they're good.”   
Jean grinned. “The best.” Silence fell over them, but it was a kind silence, no edges and no insecurities. Jean felt settled. “I've got to go now, Kev. I still have practice. I'll talk to you soon.”  
“Okay.” Jean was ending the call, but Kevin spoke up. “Jean, wait!”  
“Yeah?”  
“Thanks for your honesty. It really means a lot to me.” He sighed. “We never had secrets and, now that we're not together, sometimes it's hard to remember. But, I care about you and I care about your opinion, so thank you.”  
He could tell how much effort it took Kevin just to say those words. He had to give back. “Thanks to you for listening to me, Kev.”  
“I'm here. Whenever you want.”  
Jean smiled. “I know.” Then he stood up. “Now I really have to go, get in shape for the Olympics, win you a gold medal.”  
Kevin chuckled. “Yeah, you go do that.”  
Jean ended the call, hid the phone in his bag, and put his jersey back on. He gathered all his gear and stuffed it in his locker. He walked back to the nurse, searching for his armour and his racquet.   
He took his jersey, the lion roaring on his chest, and walked back on the court. Jean Moreau wasn't a quitter. 

When he got back home, the first thing he did was move his book from the living room to the bedroom. Then he took a shower since he hadn't bothered with one at the court.   
After practice had finished he had decided that he didn't like his first day and just wanted it to be over. So he went home.  
He had used to do that a lot with the Trojans too. His therapist had suggested that, due to the huge number of new experiences he was having: if he didn't think it had started well, he could just forget it and try the next day. Jean had found it silly at first, it reminded him of one of Jeremy's stupid videogames where he could always restart, but it had stuck with him. He felt like it took the pressure off.   
He had resigned himself to be a little bit weird anyway. It didn't really matter how he first introduced himself, people would always think he was odd. Some people grew to like him, others not so much; he had made his peace with it.   
So, he used this technique just for himself. When something felt off, he could just reset.   
He walked out of the shower and grabbed his best shirt. He combed his hair and pulled it up in a bun, just like Kevin liked. He sat in front of his mirror and took out all his earrings and rings. He knew Kevin liked gold on him, so he settled with that and a few mixed colours.   
He even wore dress pants and added some perfume. He was feeling better, ready for a new beginning. A new first day.  
He walked into his kitchen and texted Kevin: “Dinner date?” While he waited for a reply he started taking out all the ingredients for his dinner.   
His phone chimed with an: “Of course.” And his laptop immediately lit up. Jean accepted the call.  
Kevin was sitting on his balcony, the sun setting behind his shoulders, making his still wet hair shine in the light. He was shirtless, his tanned skin complimenting his new tattoo and making the white ink stand out, just like Jean had planned. A colourful salad was sitting right in front of him, Jean was reminded of the ones they used to take to the beach when they were too lazy to walk back home.   
“Oh, you’re all dressed up! You could have told me, I would have made an effort.”  
Jean leaned forward, trying to get a better view of his screen. “No, no, I really don’t mind.” He put down his knife and let his focus shift entirely to Kevin. “Stand up just a moment, I want to see your tattoo.”  
Kevin smiled. “Yeah, the tattoo.”  
“Of course. Who do you think I am?”  
Kevin’s smile grew wider. “A gentleman.”  
Jean waved at him. “Turn around now.”  
Kevin turned. “Like this?”  
“Yeah, a step to the right and hold your gaze a bit higher.” Kevin did. “Perfect, just like this.” Jean ran to his living room, taking his pencil and sketchbook.   
“How long do I have to stand here?”  
“Just give me a minute. I like this light, your hair is awesome.” He added some notes on his sketchbook. “Can I take a screenshot? I want to paint you.”  
Jean could see Kevin blush from the other side of the screen. “Of course.” He cleared his throat.   
Jean smiled. “Okay, now you can go back to your salad.”  
Kevin sat back down, his lips still stretched in a lazy smile. Jean couldn’t believe his luck, just five hours ago he had been afraid of having ruined everything between them. He knew they were strong. They had gone through some really difficult times, but Jean thought there was a difference between the difficulties other people created and the ones they created for themselves. He let himself not think about it, this was his new beginning. Kevin had already forgiven him. He had heard him.   
“You know, I tried the swimming pool today.”  
“Yeah, how was it?”  
“It was good, having the possibility to swim again, listening to only the sound of the waves. I had time to think.” He picked at his salad, clearly thinking about their afternoon. “I think I made a friend.”  
“Yeah?” Jean smiled. He was glad Kevin had already met someone. He knew it was difficult for him.  
“Lara, a teammate. She invited me, she’s really kind.” Kevin trailed off, thoughtful and content.   
“And?” Jean started to cut his vegetables again. He had settled on a salad and some chicken too.   
“She’s so fast, Jean!” Kevin’s eyes were wide, like they got when he was excited. Not surprised, just excited. “It will be so good to have someone challenging me. I got upset at first, because I lost every race, but she gave me some great advice and I hope to at least match her pace in the winter.”  
Jean laughed. “You literally learned to swim a month ago.”  
“Yeah, well, I had been playing Exy in a team for just a year when they invited me to the national’s practice.”  
“Oh, god.” Jean draped himself over his stool. “Such arrogance, such pride.”  
“You’re a drama queen.” Kevin muttered.   
“Am I?” Jean gestured to himself. “Me? The boy with a moon on his cheek? Not the one with a literal queen on his face?”  
Kevin waved him off. “Yeah, yeah.”  
Jean settled all his ingredients in the same bowl and started to eat. “You know I love it, right?”  
Kevin lowered his head. Jean knew he was pretending like he couldn’t hear him.   
Jean smiled. “I love how sure of yourself you are, I never doubted you would win. If there was someone who could do it, it was you. And you did it.” Jean pointed his fork toward the screen. “And you get to brag about it. Wear that tattoo, wear that crown, wear that number one. I’ll always be beside you.”  
Kevin was smiling.   
“But,” Jean continued. “exactly because of that, I get to make fun of you.”  
Kevin shrugged. “Fair.”  
Jean couldn’t believe his easy agreement. “Fair?”  
Kevin smirked at him. “Yeah, fair. Every queen needs a jester.”  
Jean wasn’t amused. “You’re not funny.”  
“Exactly, that’s your job.” That damned smile didn’t leave Kevin’s lips.  
“Oh, god. You have to thank the heavens that I’m not there, I would have punched you so much. I wouldn’t have even bothered with taking off my rings.”  
The laugh that filled the room was worth every word. Jean wished he could paint that too, just to frame it, so that he could bring it with him everywhere. He moved his eyes to the sketchbook, anxious to bring Kevin’s true colours to life.  
He stayed up late that night, painting Kevin’s sunset and reading the last chapters of his book, the ones that explained why the empire fell without Alexander. He thought again about the 1 on Kevin’s back, he thought about the crown; maybe it all could take on a new meaning. Maybe he just needed to reset, create a new beginning.  
There was a new person wearing a 1 on his back and Jean was sure that this time it was going to be good. 

Jean walked onto the court with paint staining his fingers and golden dust around his eyes. He couldn’t wear jewelry under his armour, but he had found another way to shine.   
His knees were still bruised and his scars still glimmered under the lights, contrasting with his slightly tanned skin. His fingers were still crooked and his nose was still broken, but he didn’t care. There was a lock keeping all his possessions safe in his locker. Kevin was just a phone call or a one hour drive away.   
Jean put on his helmet and jogged to the centre of the court. He remembered the tales of the Colosseum, how Kevin told him that gladiators and fighters would show their worth in front of the emperor, fighting beasts and men alike. Jean had always been in awe of that story, of that many people watching the ferocious display.   
He walked to the centre of the court. He felt the gaze of his coach on his back, like the eyes of the emperor on every move of the fighters, ready to judge and allow life or death with only one movement of his finger. Jean turned around and looked at him, chin held high and a steady heart.   
He was at the centre of the arena, but he wasn’t the fighter: he was the lion.

**Author's Note:**

> He held on to his jersey. “Non, non, non, non.”  
> He dialed the number and counted the seconds between every ring.   
> At the third ring Kevin answered. “Jean.” There was so much grief in Kevin's voice, Jean had to cover his mouth with the back of his hand, afraid of what sounds would come out. “Je ne suis pa comme lui. Tu dois me croire.”  
> Jean was crying. “Non, non, non. Kev. Je suis désolé. Je-”  
> “Jean.” Kevin sounded alarmed. “Jean. Que-”  
> Jean took a deep breath, letting his purple jersey fall to the floor. “Je suis désolé, je suis désolé. Tu es bon, Kevin.”  
> “Jean, Jean.” His voice was steady, but soft. “Hey, we're both safe. You can speak up, don't be afraid.”  
> “Je ne peux pas.”
> 
> He held on to his jersey. “No, no, no, no.”  
> He dialed the number and counted the seconds between every ring.   
> At the third ring Kevin answered. “Jean.” There was so much grief in Kevin's voice, Jean had to cover his mouth with the back of his hand, afraid of what sounds would come out. “I0m not like him. You have to believe me.”  
> Jean was crying. “No, no, no. Kev. I'm sorry. I-”  
> “Jean.” Kevin sounded alarmed. “Jean. What-”  
> Jean took a deep breath, letting his purple jersey fall to the floor. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry. You're good, Kevin.”  
> “Jean, Jean.” His voice was steady, but soft. “Hey, we're both safe. You can speak up, don't be afraid.”  
> “I can't.”


End file.
